The Mask Comes Off: The REAL Story of the Phantom
by The Enthusiast
Summary: The Phantom, like you've never seen him before! He's out of hiding, and he's got something to say. A story to tell. Of hope, betrayal, love, and some pretty awesome funeral music!
1. Chapter 1

Disclamer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.

AN: This story is co-written with my best friend, Caroline. Dedicated to Brian, who was a big help; and Fred, who resuced me when I died (it's a long story ;P) This story was originaly written in script form and was performed at the Sunset Lake Theater. Enjoy!

The Nightwatcher

The room was dark. Christine sat in the corner, playing the intro music on her piano. When the short song reached its climax, the Phantom of the Opera entered! He strode across the space that seperated him from Christine, looked into her brown eyes, and said...

"Just shut up, will ya?!"

"Fine..." she grumbled.

The Phantom smirked, then turned away from her. "I have come here tonight, out of hiding, to tell you all a very important story. A story of wandering hearts, of betrayal, of hope...and of some pretty awesome music, too!" he added with a smile. Then he scowled again. "And I've canceled two facials and pedicure to be here, so listen and listen good!

"Back before the age of television, the opera house was the center of town, where everyone went to have a good time. I was known as Billy Bob Topaz in those days, and I was the star of the place, and I sung many a song with Christine,"

"I rocked!" Christine said, with a graceful smile, and a not-so-graceful jump from her seat.

"Shut up!" the Phantom yelled. "As I was saying, I composed the operas as well as starred in them. Yes...I was such a hit...anyway, after a few years, the Opera House burned down! They thought everyone got out...except me! I was killed, which ended the days of Billy Bob Topaz, and began the days of the Phantom. I hid in the remains of the opera house, having a fine time living contededly composing and performing my operas for my massive collection of dust bunnies. I was so happy being alone. I've always hated people unless they're praising me." he smiled menacingly.

"Then, one day, some people noticed strange music coming from the ruins. They sent a nightwatcher to find out what exactly was going on. I caught that little snoop searching around through my property! What a little sneak! So the next night as he was making his rounds I snuck up on him."

"'What do you think you're doing?'' the Phantom asked the nightwatcher, who promptly screamed at the sight of the Phantom looming over him.

''Huh?'' he just stammered. ''This is people's property'' the Phantom said slowly.

''Now I better not see you here again!'' I yelled. Boy, it's fun seeing him squirm; the He watched the kid run away as fast as his teenage legs would carry him.

"Hmmm...'' the Phantom thought as he watched his retreating figure. ''I should write an opera about this...'' And with that he turned around and headed inside. He'd have to ask my dust bunnies for permission first.


	2. Chapter 2

The Kidnapping

The Phantom smiled at the horrified looks he was recieving from the readers and decided to continue.

"About a year after the nightwatcher episode a building firm decided to rebuild the opera house, as opera was rapidly coming back in style. Pretty soon they had the place up and running. Now all they needed was a lead opera singer. I was fond of hiding backstage in the shadows and watching the auditions. This was entertaining because all the women stunk! Ha ha! Except for one. Her name was Christine..."

"That's me!" Christine cried, and strode to center stage, smiling and waving, enthralled with her moment in the spotlight.

"Sit down, Christine, this isn't about you!" the Phantom retorted. Christine just pouted.

"She auditioned for the main part against Isabell Dean. Isabell was okay...actually she was pretty good...but Christine was hotter!" Christine smiled as the Phantom said this.

"So anyway, she was Christine, as you can see. When I heard she was going to audition, I hid backstage in the shadows. Who needs a front row seat when you're a Phantom!" he said with a laugh. "She began the opening notes of her performance, and looked behind her, for no real reason. She saw me! She screamed and ran from the stage in tears."

"So the part goes to...Isabell Dean!" the director announced. "What! That's crazy!" the Phantom thought. "Christine was way better!"

After everyone left the auditorium, the Phantom whipped out his black cell phone and dialed Isabell Dean's number.

"Hello?" Isabell said when she picked up the phone. The Phantom held back a giggle.

"Is this Isabell-something-with-a-D?"

"Um...yes?" Isabell said, nervous.

"How would you like to join the Canadian opera, conveniently located in Santa Fe?"

Isabell frowned. "Canada isn't in Santa Fe!" she said.

"We'll pay you 6,000 dollars a song!" the Phantom said in a sing-song voice.

"Okay!" Isabelle replied.

"Ha ha, sucker!"

"What!?"

"Uh...I mean...uh..._bye_!" the Phantom hung up hastily. He pocketed his phone and smiled menacingly. Phase one: check.

The Phantom scowled at the readers, who were all mumuring "Poor Isabell!"

"Shut up!" he said impolitely. "Let me continue." He said dramatically, and paused.

"Christine's first performance was scheduled for that night. Hundreds of people flooded in to see her. I snuck behind a giant red curtain, as she took center stage in a long pink dress, with a flower in her curly auburn hair and pearls around her slender neck. She began her song. I coughed loudly to get her attention. My plan was unfolding perfectly! She saw my shadowy face, and suddenly her high notes turned into a shriek. What a baby! I followed her into her dressing room, where she trembling and mumbling. I grabbed her heavy silver hairbrush and brought it crashing down upon her head."

The Phantom dragged Christine to his lair and dropped her at his feet. He sat down at his giant organ and began to play some horrid sounds.

"Like it, sweetie? I call it funeral music!"

While the Phantom was engrossed in his passionate performance, Christine sat up, groggily. ''Uh, what is that ugly music? And where is it coming from?''

She walked over to where the Phantom was sitting, and pulled off his mask, exposing him.

"HEY! Who do you think you are?" The Phantom erupted. He snatched the mask from her manicured hands and glared at her. She ran wildly back to her dressing room. The Phantom followed her and found her on the phone with the police.

Uh oh! the Phantom thought. When she turned around and saw him, he grabbed her arm so she couldn't run away. But she pulled out of his grasp.

"You creep! Just you wait, the police are almost here." She picked up the same silver hair brush I used to knock her out and raised it above her head.

"Wait, stand back, I have perfume!" the Phantom said picking up the perfume on the berau. He then proceeded to spray himself in the eyes! When he could finally see again, he saw Christine standing with a butcher's knife she retreaved from the kitchen. Because, you know, you can always fine fully stocked kitchens in random opera houses.

''Listen Christine...well...I didn't mean to scare you...um...the truth is, I think you're a good opera singer, and kinda...um...cute? I guess?'' The Phantom realized sounded like such a blundering idiot. But it didn't matter. He saw that sparkle in Christine's eyes!

''I kinda like you too, even though you kidnapped me!'' she said. "Oh, hooray!" the Phantom thought, enthralled, because Christine loved him even though he almost killed her, threatened her mulitple times, and knocked her out with a hair brush. The feeling didn't last, though, as they both heard sirens in the distance. The Phantom grabbed Christine's hands.

''Christine, you can't tell ANYONE about me, now that you know my secret.'' She just nodded. The Phantom turned away from her, wishing he didn't have to leave.

''And now, I bid you adue!" The readers shuddered at the horribly cheesy line. The Phantom dissapeared just as a rather fat policeman entered, polishing off a doughnut. Christine suddenly wondered why she didn't call a better one.

And all that was left of the Phantom of the Opera was a cape and a mask, sitting demurely on the white tile floor.


End file.
